


iʼve looked at clouds from both sides now

by theseasofrhye



Series: 7 Days of OTP [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, Hook-Up, M/M, Modern Era, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24161608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseasofrhye/pseuds/theseasofrhye
Summary: “Champ,” Roger says, smiling slyly.Brian catches his breath. “This doesnʼt feel like winning.”“Not rightnow,” Roger says, fumbling for his phone in his front pocket. “Pick out a nice playlist for us, will you?”Or, Brian gets high for the first time.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Series: 7 Days of OTP [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743685
Comments: 22
Kudos: 68





	iʼve looked at clouds from both sides now

“Whatʼs eating you?” 

Brian rearranges himself on the carpet, mostly entranced in the way Roger’s tongue licks up the top edge of the joint, lowering it as he seals it with a final roll. Brianʼs stomach does a somersault, heavy with anticipation. 

“Iʼm fine,” he says, but doesn’t quite believe it himself. 

Roger offers him a reassuring smile. “You will be, in a minute.” He packs the joint lightly with the drawstring of his hoodie. Brian tilts his head. 

He gingerly taps a finger against the hardwood, watching as Roger collects the lighter and applies flame to the joint, steadily rotating it in his fingers. Brian scratches the back of his hand as he watches, transfixed. 

Rogerʼs cheeks hollow as he takes the first few tentative hits. The tip lights a bright, orange colour with it, and Brian fidgets with a loose thread on his jumper. Roger looks up, a cloud of dense smoke going up above their heads. He smiles drowsily, bending his knee. 

“Wonder how Freddie’s doing,” Roger comments, for no apparent reason. He smokes on. “Itʼs been ages.” 

“Better off,” Brian says, picking at his hair self-consciously. “Spent twenty minutes flicking paper balls at my head, earlier today.” 

“Whatʼs not to like?” Roger teases, grinning lazily. 

“You would say that,” Brian says. “Itʼs not _your_ hair.” 

Roger laughs at that, raspy and breathless. He brushes his foot against the outside of Brianʼs thigh. “To my great regret,” he drawls, “I wasnʼt fortunate enough to be born with hair as gorgeous as yours.” 

Brian wrinkles his nose, bats at Rogerʼs leg. “Donʼt.” 

Roger smokes, lazy and unhurried, and eyes Brian for a moment. “Shouldʼve, all things considered,” he says. “Crabs are not exactly known for their chevelure.”

Brian blinks. “What?” 

“Youʼre a Cancer, right?” Roger goes on, perhaps oblivious to Brianʼs puzzled expression. “Would make sense if I had the hair, being a Leo and all. The mane, you know?” 

Brian doesn’t, but he nods anyway. “Sure.” 

Rogerʼs relaxed smile stops Brian from fidgeting, and he pulls his knees to his chest as he watches him peacefully. “Canʼt think of a single thing to expect,” Brian admits. 

Eyes small and heavy, Roger smiles as he reaches for his water bottle. It ends up in Brianʼs lap. “Hold on to that,” he says, flicking the ash off the joint and scooting closer to hand it to Brian. He hesitates briefly. 

It looks awfully small between Brian's fingers, and the smell of it is strong and dizzying as he holds it up to his lips. Roger touches a hand to Brianʼs forearm. 

“Long and deep,” he says softly.

Brian looks up at him, needing a last bit of reassurance, and places the joint between his lips. 

“You want to hold it in,” Roger says, throwing him a quick smile. “Go on.”

Lips tightening around the joint, Brian inhales deeply, feels the smoke settle in his lungs. Roger brushes his thumb over the heel of his hand. “Good,” he says. “Let it sit for a bit. And exhale slowly.”

Tipping his head back, Brian complies, counts an unfairly long five seconds before he breathes out, slowly, and regards Roger through a cloud of thin smoke. Roger’s touch on his hand is slack and relaxed, and as he glances down at it, his throat itches.

“Alright?”

Brian clears his throat and nods. He hesitates. “If I do another, howʼs that going to… you know.” 

Roger tilts his head. 

“Well, will I black out?” Brian picks at his trousers. 

Roger snorts. “Hardly. Try one more.” 

The next inhale is deep and thorough, and the joint crisps quietly as it burns. Slightly lightheaded, he basks in the feeling of it in his lungs, dense and full, and breathes out with excessive confidence. Relentlessly coughing, he hands Roger the joint, watches him smirk ridiculously through the tears in his eyes. Roger makes half a gesture at Brian’s lap, and smokes as Brian gulps down his water.

“Champ,” Roger says, smiling slyly. 

Brian catches his breath. “This doesnʼt feel like winning.” 

“Not right _now,_ ” Roger says, fumbling for his phone in his front pocket. “Pick out a nice playlist for us, will you?” 

~*~

Three and a half minutes into _Dear Prudence,_ Brian feels decidedly out of it. The joint is long gone by then, and Roger’s socked feet press up against Brian’s, have been for the past ten minutes, and the way Roger looks at him in no way matches that of only a while ago. 

“My feet are bigger than yours,” Roger says, words sluggish, and taps his foot against Brian’s toes. 

Brian scoffs, but feels a thrill when Roger shifts his foot, grazing Brian’s ankle instead. “Half a size,” Brian says thickly. Roger blinks at him. “You can literally borrow _my_ shoes.” 

Roger clicks his tongue, his foot finding Brian’s calf. Thereʼs an easy smile playing at Roger’s lips, and the thrill grows into arousal when he feels his leg be tugged closer. 

“Iʼm not particularly dying to slip your clogs on, you know.” 

Unsure of what to say to that, Brian stays quiet and hides a smile. He straightens his leg out next to Roger, tucks his foot into the crook of Rogerʼs elbow, and bends the other in a feeble attempt to hide the swell of his cock. 

Roger tucks his fingers into the bottom hem of Brian’s trousers, scratches at his skin tenderly. Brian reaches for his water. 

“Howʼs this for your first time, then?” Roger asks, squeezing his ankle.

“Not bad,” Brian says, feeling like he might float away. “Didnʼt expect to, you know, cough up my lungs.” 

“The water should have been a hint.” 

“Yeah, well.” Brian chucks the empty bottle at Roger’s head. He misses, and it bounces off the stereo instead, landing with a sad thud somewhere under Roger’s bed. 

Roger huffs out a laugh, and Brianʼs foot twitches when Roger runs a finger over the indents left behind from his sock. 

“Ticklish?”

Brian canʼt look away. “No,” he says truthfully. 

“Feels nice, this, doesnʼt it?” Roger says and pulls himself up, slowly, into Brian’s space.

Swallowing thickly, Brian nods, eyes searching Roger’s face. 

“This, too?” Roger asks, brushing light fingers across Brianʼs cheekbone.

“Yes,” he whispers. His heart slams against his ribcage. 

Roger leans in, and Brianʼs eyes close on instinct at the brush of Rogerʼs nose over his cheek. Roger’s hand slides under his shirt, nails scratching softly at his prickling skin. “I love the way this feels when Iʼm high,” he murmurs, dragging motionless lips down the line of Brian’s jaw. 

Brianʼs heart settles in his throat. When Rogerʼs mouth opens over the skin beneath his ear, Brian gasps, reaching out to unthinkingly squeeze Roger’s knee. “Fuck,” he breathes. 

When Roger speaks again, itʼs hot and humid, the words heavy against the crook of his neck. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” Brian gasps, just as a languid kiss is pressed to his skin. “ _O_ _h,_ so good.” 

“Do you want more?” 

“Yes,” Brian breathes. “Please.” 

Slowly sliding down to hook steady fingers on Brian’s belt, Roger regards him with a smirk. “Spread your legs.”

Brianʼs mouth feels like sandpaper, dry and quiet, and he lets Rogerʼs hands push his thighs apart easily. Neck flushed, he blinks up at the fluorescent solar system spread out on his ceiling, moans at the feeling of Roger palming him over his trousers.

“Roger,” Brian whispers, just to say his name.

Roger blinks up at him, grazing his hand over Brianʼs zipper. The music stops, and Roger’s phone buzzes. He groans. 

“Send it to voicemail, will you?” 

Brian glances at the screen and the persistent blink of the flashlight. “It’s Clare,” Brian says, hips inching forward on their own accord. 

“She’ll leave a message if it’s important,” Roger insists. “Go on.” 

Brian hesitates, but watches the screen go black as his thumb glides over the red button. He wonders about the obnoxious light of the flash but decides not to ask, focuses instead on the steady hands working his trousers open, on the nimble fingers that zip them down. Arousal stirs in his belly. 

“Roger,” Brian says, voice weak. He feels his heart pound inside his chest, unable to decide if it’s the weed anymore. Roger looks up at him, but his fingers stay moving. “Have you …” 

Roger smiles and ducks his head. Brian falls silent. 

Rogerʼs hand slides into Brian’s pants and grasps him firmly, and Brian’s unhesitating as he pushes the fabric of them down marginally to reveal himself fully.

“Have I ever had someone else’s dick in my hand before?” Roger says easily. 

Brian wonders if the weed is making Roger’s head swim as heavenly as his own, and has half a mind to ask why he looks so collected when Brian feels like he’s falling to pieces.

Outside, the rain is a soft patter against the window, and one song fades into the next. 

Roger shifts slightly, tucking a foot under his thigh. “I havenʼt,” he whispers, licks a sloppy stripe up his palm, and curls his fingers around Brianʼs cock. Brian sighs deeply through his nose. “But this isnʼt so bad, is it?” 

The twist of Rogerʼs hand as it glides up towards the tip has him swearing at the ceiling, wondering if Roger’s as far gone as he is. If he is, he certainly doesnʼt look it: all sly smiles and unfairly good looks. 

Biting his lip, Roger starts a slow rhythm, pumping his cock so very lightly Brianʼs toes curl inside his socks. “Could edge you until youʼre squirming,” Roger says softly. He ghosts his thumb over the head of Brian’s dick, so lightly it feels like a breath. “Have you turn to jelly on my fingers.” 

“Fuck,” Brian breathes, aching with how much closer he wants him. “ _Please._ ” 

Roger lets go of Brian’s cock to smooth the tips of his fingers along his balls. “So tight already,” Roger drawls. “Whatʼs it going to take?” 

Brianʼs belt thuds against the hardwood floors, and he feels a rush when Roger grazes his free hand over the skin of his stomach. He feels like heʼs suspended in the air, and he chokes out a quiet moan when Roger presses his thumb against the base of his cock. 

“Can feel how close you are,” Roger whispers, and Brian barely registers it, feels the gentle breath of his voice rather than hears it, and his limbs feel dense and clumsy as he tries to make sense of them, to blindly grasp at anything within reach. 

Brianʼs thigh tenses, mouth falling open. Roger’s eyes remain stubborn and unwavering as he jerks him off, and Brian teeters at the very edge, breath catching loudly in his throat. 

“God, stop,” Brian whimpers, catching Roger’s wrist. 

Roger does, slightly breathless. “Why?”

“Don’t wanna come like this,” Brian says, ducking his head.

Roger pauses, looks at him expectantly, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. 

Brianʼs heart skips. “Wanna kiss you,” he whispers.

A lazy smile stretches Roger’s lips. “Figured you might.” He runs his thumb over the weeping head of Brian’s cock, and Brian bites back a moan. “Wanna come with my tongue in your mouth?”

“Yes,” Brian says, the word out before he can catch it.

Roger lets go of Brian’s cock to push himself up on his knees.

“Wh-” is all Brian gets out before Roger pushes Brian’s knee down, gingerly placing himself in his lap. 

“Easier like this,” Roger says by way of explanation, grabbing hold of Brian’s cock again with one hand, the other coming up to cup Brian’s cheek. 

Brian’s heart races, and his breath stutters in his throat as Roger thumbs over the head of his cock, using his pre-come to slick him up. 

“Go on, then,” Roger says, smoothing a finger over Brian’s cheekbone. “Kiss me.”

Brianʼs brain is slow and foggy and yet, his lips are on Roger’s before he realises it, soft and coaxing, a wave of bliss washing over him, eliciting a moan from his throat. 

Roger kisses him back like it isnʼt the first time - mouth opening around Brianʼs indulgently, teeth grazing his bottom lip, the hand on his cheek sliding into the back of his hair instead. 

“You can touch,” Roger breathes between one kiss and the next, reaching down to guide Brian’s hand to his waist. 

Brian lets himself be guided, marvelling at the soft, slightly worn fabric of the hoodie under his palm, the heat radiating from Roger’s skin, the exhale when Brian’s apprehensive fingers graze over the skin of his hip. 

A warm, skilled tongue slides into Brian’s mouth, and it doesn’t take long then - it’s been building all day, this thing, the rain and the weed and the music, Roger’s words and his teasing and his touch, and Brian comes with something akin to a sob against Roger’s lips, chest hiccuping, head falling back as he spills over Roger’s hand, his foot jerking to the side.

Brian feels like he’s floating, wonders if he’s ever coming down; he can’t be sure, but then he doesn’t mind much, not when Roger’s hand is on him still, his lips red and glistening, pulled into a weary smile. 

“Told you it felt nice,” Roger says, kissing him one last time before he climbs off Brian’s lap. 

Brianʼs left in a heap as Roger makes for the bathroom, reappearing a moment later with a damp washcloth that promptly ends up in his general proximity. 

“Better clean yourself up,” Roger says, briefly touching Brian’s knee as he reaches for his phone. “Mind if I return Clareʼs call?” 

**Author's Note:**

> It took nearly two years for me to decide to contribute to the wonderful work in this fandom, and this would have never seen the light of day if it werenʼt for my dear friend Anna, who was and is the loveliest beta I could have asked for. 
> 
> Any feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
